


Mixed Feelings

by Neva_Flows



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, Light Angst, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is 18, Porn With Plot, but not a lot of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neva_Flows/pseuds/Neva_Flows
Summary: !! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR FAR FROM HOME !!What if the events of Far From Home played out a little differently? What if Peter Parker messed up a little more than usual... what if Quentin Beck got away?After Peter’s identity has been revealed abruptly to the world, he searches desperately for some way to prove his innocence. One failure follows another, until he ends up completely deserted by the people he had protected for so long...Which is exactly where Beck wants him.





	Mixed Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual fic in a long time, so go easy on the judgement lmao
> 
> I couldn’t help adding more Mysterio fics; I just fell in love the moment I saw him on the big screen (cuz we’re all a little horny for villains, lbh)
> 
> This also had no beta, because I’ll die before I ask someone I know to read my gay fanfiction

Peter hurried to shut the door behind him as he ran breathlessly into the small apartment. He locked the door, trying to catch his breath as he replayed the events of last week over again in his head...

***  
“Spider-Man is P—“ the video cut out for a moment, and Peter held his breath. He wouldn’t. Mysterio was a bad guy—a villain, for Christ’s sake—but he wouldn’t reveal the identity of Spider-Man mere seconds after allowing the world to believe he was a mass-murderer. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Spider-Man is Peter Parker!” The Mysterio in the video gasped out those earth-shattering words so quickly, it took Peter a moment to fully comprehend them.

They knew. Everyone knew.

“Peter..? What’s going on?”

Peter slowly turned to look back at MJ, whose gaze was still glued to the screen. “That’s just another hologram, right?” Her eyes flicked over to Peter, who stayed as stiff as a statue as she fixed him with an expression of shock and disbelief.

He wanted to say something, needed to say something, but he couldn’t seem to muster the strength to speak. They all knew.

The pedestrians crowding the streets turned one by one to look at him, their expressions a mix of disbelief and rage.

They knew.

He turned around again, trying to find even one friendly face in the crowd, but it was no use. 

They knew.

Everyone was looking at him, and it suddenly became incredibly hard to breathe under his mask.

They knew... they knew... theyknewtheyknewtheyknewtheyknew!

Overcome with panic, Peter ripped the mask off his face and spun around to look at MJ again. He didn’t even hear the gasps of surprise coming from the people surrounding him, despite the fact that the crowded street was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Surely MJ would understand. She would see the look on his face and help him set things straight for everyone. Mysterio was a liar. MJ knew that. She knew.

But when Peter looked at her, desperately searching her gaze for any sign of reassurance, he only saw confusion. MJ wasn’t there for the battle. She didn’t know what happened, and neither did anyone but him and Mysterio.

Peter began to hyperventilate. Without even thinking about it, he shot a web at the side of the closest building and pulled himself up. He stayed there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. All that he knew was that he had to get away. He had to get someplace safe, someplace without people.

Ignoring the sound of MJ calling his name, Peter swung through the streets of New York, trying to find some solace in the familiar action.

This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t going to be persecuted without a chance to defend himself. He wasn’t about to lose one of the only people who cared for him. He wasn’t going to cry about it, either. He wasn’t going to feel anything. Not the painful ache in his heart, not the soreness in his arms from swinging aggressively, not even the wind in his hair...

The wind in his hair.

His mask.

Peter nearly crashed into the side of a building at the realization. He caught himself, managing to stick to the side in the nick of time. Should he go back? No, someone would have picked it up by then. 

Thinking about it for a moment, Peter allowed himself to quietly watch the sea of New Yorkers mill about underneath him. All those people, who he had tried so hard to protect, despised him. It was bad enough that they hated Spider-Man, but now they hated him, too.

It was then that Peter came to another startling realization.

It didn’t occur to him that he would ever have to live his life without the presence of Spider-Man. Since he was 16, it had always been a huge part of him. With Mr. Stark, he was able to nurture Spider-Man, and make him greater. Spider-Man was a hero. Peter was proud of it. He never revealed his identity to anyone he didn’t trust, and that was fine. With the mask on, Peter was no longer Peter. The mask wasn’t just a symbol of Spider-Man, it was the protector of Peter’s deepest secret, and he worked hard to make sure it stayed a secret.

But all that nurturing, all that hard work, was trampled on by Mysterio. By Quentin Beck. The man that he had only known for a few days. It was almost laughable, looking back at all the mistakes he had made when interacting with Beck. Peter trusted the older man so willingly. He was sure that Beck, of all people, would understand his problems and concerns. He thought he knew Beck, and Beck knew him. He really, stupidly, believed that he was safe with Beck.

He thought Beck might have actually liked him. He thought they were friends.

But Peter didn’t really know what he thought anymore.

They knew.

He didn’t.

***  
Since then, Peter could hardly show his face in public. At first, he tried to lay low at May’s place, but people would come knocking at the door with profanities and missed punches.

He gave up hope after the seventh group.

After that, he tried staying at Ned’s place, but that didn’t last long, either.

Eventually, May was able to find Peter a decent apartment for him to stay in, since she knew how much he worried about putting her and his friends in danger. That’s where he was now, gasping for breath after narrowly escaping another angry mob. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears as he became overwhelmed with frustration.

Didn’t anyone have any faith in Spider-Man?

Peter angrily wiped at his eyes as he finally turned around to go further into the apartment.

“Why are you crying, Peter?”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, too shocked by the voice to bother wiping away the remaining tears that rolled down his face.

There, sitting casually on the sofa, was Quentin Beck. He was dressed casually, with a plain white t-shirt and jeans. Peter wondered how the hell Beck got in, but he was mostly concerned about the familiar red mask that was clutched in the older man’s fist.

“How did you—“

“Hm? Oh, this!” Beck raised his fist and glanced at the mask, as though he’d forgotten he even had it. “Yeah, it was kind of passed around a bit. Collectors, fans… no one really wanted to keep it.”

Peter knew Beck was trying to hurt him, but that didn’t change the fact that his heart felt like it was being stabbed with every word the illusionist spoke.

“In the end, one of my associates got it from a girl called… MJ, I think?”

And just like that, Peter’s heart shattered. He didn’t even bother trying to disguise the dismay in his voice as he stammered, “What did you… why did she…?”

Beck stood up, casually dropping Peter’s mask on the floor as he sauntered over to the small hero.

“Hey, hey…” He soothed, rubbing Peter’s arms while the latter tried to wipe away the rest of his tears. Peter slapped Beck’s hands away, unwilling to let him fool him again. “I thought so. That was the girl you had a crush on, wasn’t it?” Peter flinched, but Beck kept talking, slowly walking circles around Peter as he did so. “Relax, no one hurt her. She just wanted to get rid of the mask. I guess she just couldn’t stand to have anything about you around her.”

Peter whirled around and aimed a punch for Beck’s face, but his fist only phased through him. The hologram dissipated, and Peter felt warm hands on his shoulders.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Peter?” Beck murmured.

Peter just leaned into Beck’s touch as the older man began to rub small circles on his back. The fight drained out of him. He was just so exhausted. He was tired of trying to prove himself. All he wanted to do was get away from everything, even if it meant allowing his enemy to touch him so casually.

As if he had read Peter’s mind, Beck leaned down and murmured in Peter’s ear: “Do you want to get away from it, Peter? Do you want me to take away the pain?”

Shivering, Peter nodded wordlessly. He was sick of being attacked; sick of being Spider-Man.

“Please,” he sobbed. He didn’t care that he was acting so pathetic, he just wanted it all to be over. “Make it stop.”

Beck’s hands slid down Peter’s sides, making their way to his crotch. Peter’s eyes fluttered closed as Beck began to press light, soothing kisses to his neck and shoulder. Contrary to his character, Beck was so, so gentle. It made Peter feel safe. It made him feel wanted.

“Beck…” Peter murmured, clutching the older man’s bicep as he palmed Peter through his jeans. Peter whined, his voice breathy and submissive.

Beck let out a throaty growl, grinding his hips against Peter’s backside. “God, you’re such a slut,” he chuckled, nipping at Peter’s earlobe. Peter’s eyes snapped open, and he opened his mouth to deny it, but then Beck’s lips were on his, and it felt sooo good.

Peter turned to face Beck fully, trying to make some noise of indignation, but it only came out as a moan as Beck rutted his hips against Peter’s. Gradually, Peter allowed himself to melt in Beck’s hold, tangling his fingers in the older man’s hair as he hesitantly moved his lips against Beck’s.

Beck backed Peter into the wall, eliciting another small moan from him. It felt good. It felt right.

Without even thinking about it, Peter slid his hands down Beck’s torso and gripped the zipper on Beck’s jeans. He broke the kiss, fixing Beck with a pleading gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, when—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Peter? Are you in there?”

Ned.

Instead of appearing alarmed, as Peter was, Beck looked almost thoughtful.

“I brought another Star Wars lego set! I know it’s been a while since I’ve come to see you, but it’s hard to be sneaky, and sometimes I forget which apartment is yours, and…”

Peter tuned Ned out as his attention snapped back to Beck, who had removed himself from Peter. Beck casually straightened out his clothes and hair, seemingly unbothered about everything that had just happened.

“Looks like you don’t need me to help you out after all,” Beck said.

Peter’s eyes widened as Beck began to walk towards the window, where he assumed Beck would make his escape. He could still hear Ned talking on the other side of the door, but he was too focused on the retreating figure of his enemy.

Ned was here.

Ned still cared about him.

But… 

Before he could fully comprehend his actions, Peter surged forward and grabbed Beck’s hand. Beck turned around slowly, a knowing smile on his face.

“Yes?”

Peter’s mouth went dry as Beck stared at him expectantly. He licked his lips, apprehension taking over.

“Um, Ned?” He called out. The distant chattering of his friend stopped. There was a pause, and Peter glanced at Beck. 

The look of raw hunger in Beck’s gaze sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and his mouth seemed to move involuntarily as he said, “I, uh… want to be alone right now. Sorry…”

“Oh, yeah, dude!” Ned replied, though it was clear that he was hurt by his friend’s response. “Yeah, I’ll, um, come back later.”

Beck grinned wickedly as the sound of Ned’s footsteps faded away. Peter turned to look at him. “Was that okay? I’m pretty sure that was your last remaining friend,” he mused.

Peter gulped, guilt crushing him. Beck saw the expression on his face and grabbed his chin. “Oh, it was only a matter of time,” he cooed, “before he left you too. You made the right choice.” He used his other hand to lightly grab Peter’s crotch, which earned him a soft whimper from the teen. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it? It always does… now, Peter, what do you want me to do about it?”

Peter felt his heart constrict as he held Beck’s gaze. He knew Beck was the one who was making him hurt so much, but he also knew that Beck was the one who was making him feel so good. The two truths battled it out in his head, leaving him reeling from the overwhelming stress of trying to figure out what to believe. He reached out one tentative hand, gripping Beck’s t-shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Take it all away.”

***  
Next thing Peter knew, he was on all fours, naked, being taken so roughly he was seeing stars. “B-Beck… fuck—Mysterio…” He gripped the bedsheets, trying to meet Beck’s thrusts as best as he could.

“God, Peter, the things you do to me,” Beck groaned, enunciating his statement with a particularly sharp thrust to Peter’s prostate. Peter cried out, scrabbling for purchase. “Does that feel good, Peter? Does it feel good to be dicked down by the man who ruined your life? Fuck, you look gorgeous like this, legs spread and begging for more… who the hell made you into this much of a slut?”

Peter whimpered, refusing to reply, but Beck grabbed his hair and slowed down his pace until it was agonizing.

“Come on, baby, you can tell me. I’m all you have left, after all,” Beck murmured, kissing Peter’s shoulder soothingly. Despite the fist in his hair, Peter felt like he was being loved. He knew he was wrong, and his head was just messed up from all the stress and frustration, but that didn’t stop him from turning more and more into putty in Beck’s hands with every slow, tantalizing thrust.

Gradually exposing more of his neck to the older man, Peter murmured, “You’re… you were…” he trailed off, letting out a quiet groan as he received a particularly deep thrust. “This is my first time,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as Beck planted several light kisses on his neck. Peter wanted to be enveloped by the gentle, reassuring love Beck was giving him. In the wake of everything that had happened in the last week, he desperately tried to cling to it, to keep it forever.

But…

“That wasn’t so hard to admit,” Beck hummed, unsurprised. “But…”

But..?

“No matter how good it feels to be properly appreciated—“ Beck slid out of Peter, flipping the younger boy onto his back. It was only then that Peter could see the wild, greedy look in Beck’s eyes as he spoke. “—it’s nothing compared to everything else I could possibly give you.” Beck sighed wistfully, tenderly brushing his thumb across one of Peter’s tear-stained cheeks. It almost sounded like a love confession as he said, “I want to make you mine.”

But there was nothing romantic about it.

Fuck.

Peter could feel a fresh wave of arousal wash over him as he spread his legs for the man on top of him. “Please,” he whispered.

And that was all he had to say.

Within seconds, Beck was inside him again, thrusting so roughly that, even with his enhanced healing, Peter knew he’d be walking funny for a few days. But he didn’t care, because he felt filled, he felt wanted, he felt needed, and it all felt so good.

“Oh, god! Yes, yes, please, more!” He sobbed, so overwhelmed by relief and pleasure that he felt dizzy. “Please! B-Beck… Beck!”

Beck reached down and began to stroke Peter hard and fast, pushing him closer and closer to release.

“I can’t, I’m… oh, god!”

Peter gasped, arching his back as he came harder than he ever had in his entire life. Through his haze, he could feel his cum splattering on his chest, followed by Beck’s not long after. He knew he should feel ashamed about what he had just done, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter didn’t feel stressed, abandoned, or even sad.

He just felt Beck.

And that was all he needed.


End file.
